Holding Hands
by Aronoded
Summary: Hermione/Ron - Character death - Angst - Hermione remembers Ron and how much she truely loved him. Set between 6th and 7th year.


Notes: Angsty. A sadfic I wrote for the Dead Ron challenge between my dear friend Nikki and I.  
  
I dedicate this to her.  
  
+ Holding Hands +  
  
  
  
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I loved you for an hour  
  
I could have loved you long  
  
for the moment you were with me  
  
you sent my spirit song  
  
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_________________________  
  
There was the fire in the fireplace. There was the clock on the wall. There were the hushed voices behind her, in the dining room. Her mother. His mother. She could hear them. "...she hasn't said a word..hasn't looked away from the fire..."  
  
"She loved him, you know."  
  
"...I know."  
  
She could recall when they would enter the room. They would add wood to the flames, they would look at her, she could feel it. Their eyes were sad and tired, blue eyes, eyes like his...eyes she couldn't bare to look into for fear that she would see him in them and lose what fragile thread of composure she'd managed to keep for the sake of those around her. His family...and she couldn't be hurting as much as them, could she? She couldn't feel the same sense of loss as them...  
  
"She never told him..."  
  
"He loved her too..."  
  
She was remembering. She was trying to forget, but there they were, a boy with copper red hair and a slight sort of girl with honey brown eyes, walking side by side through the doors to the Great Hall...perhaps going to meet Harry, she couldn't recall. She could only remember that it was the first time that she'd wanted to hold his hand. Could remember that she'd even looked down towards it, counted his fingers, anticipated how warm his skin would feel against her palm. She could remember that she'd never gotten the nerve... and by the time they sat at their table...the thought was forgotten....Til now.  
  
"...put her to bed?"  
  
"leave her be..."  
  
She could hear his mother crying...could hear his father leave the room, could hear him talking low to her... their foot steps on the stairs and on the floor above her. She could smell her mothers hair, feel her lips against her forehead, saying her name, saying good night. She felt like she nodded. Felt like she whispered good night, but she couldn't be sure. It seemed wrong to say it.. seemed wrong to think it. Good night...'good night'...but not with him gone. Never a good night when he's away. Never a good night when he isn't coming home.  
  
"Try and get some sleep, Hermione..."  
  
How could she sleep in this house...when he stood in every corner. When he walked down every hall. When he slept in every bed in her memory. Every scent wore a piece of his essence, every item had been touched by his fingers. I should be comforted, she thought, I should be...  
  
But she wasn't. She closed her eyes, and there he was. Whole, in her memory, always warm, always alive. His eyes were always so blue, his skin so pale and dusted with a galaxy of freckles. Were that he were here, she would hold his head between her hands and she would press a seperate kiss to every one. She would kiss his eye lids, trace her lips over his silky eye lashes, over his copper brow. She'd kiss his chin, and then she'd rest her lips just over his...just to feel him breathe into her...Just so she could feel how alive he was beside her.  
  
'But he's gone.'  
  
She wouldn't let herself think it, because she was remembering what it was like to hug him...her arms around his waist, her head against his chest. She could remember the sound of his heart beat, fierce and strong. She'd never been scared then that it would ever stop. She lived for that rhythm, noticed how her own complimented it. A heart beating with his, instead of against it. She could remember the sound of his breath, soft, like a symphony, the way his hair felt like satin against her forehead. How warm his lips were against her temple.   
  
She could remember his lips vividly. Had tasted them once. Had felt them on her throat, clumsy, his breath hot, her name on his tongue. It'd happened up stairs, up stairs in the room who's door was now locked. She'd snuck in unable to sleep, and together they'd laid in his small bed, talking quietly about school. About how Harry was and if he would come to the Burrow soon. She could remember everything orange in the dark, the movement of his posters on the wall, the way his curtains swayed lazily in the cold breeze from outside. He'd put his hand on her stomach, had put his face in her shoulder, then her throat and he'd set her on fire so easily with one carefully placed and timid kiss.  
  
It seemed she could still taste the salty sweat from his brow on her lips. Could still hear their labored breath in her ears. She'd never told him all the things she'd always wanted to. She'd never said the words, even after they lay entwined in his bed. She'd never heard him say the things she could see burning behind his eyes. She'd taken for granted then, that there would be time. That they would always be near one another.   
  
Some things had to be learned the hard way.  
  
If only he were here now to tell.  
  
She closed her eyes to that thought, could still see the red of the fire flickering behind her eye lids, and she thought of nothing else, letting that color draw her in until it became a torch light in her dream. She was floating through the halls of Hogwarts, between students towards the doors of the school. They were open and she could see the star light beyond them in that inky black sky. And as she went out into the night, she turned and looked back...And there they were, a tall boy with copper red hair, and a slight sort of girl with honey brown eyes walking side by side, into the great hall....  
  
Holding hands.  
  
_________________________  
  
__________________________________________  
  
I forgot to tell you that I was proud of you.   
  
I forgot to tell you that you were my hero...  
  
that even when you thought you stood in a shadow,   
  
I could see you standing there...shining brighter then them all.   
  
I forgot to tell you I love you.   
  
Because I do love you.   
  
I've always loved you,   
  
and forever onward, I shall.  
  
* * *  
  
R.I.P  
  
Ronald Weasley  
  
They could take his life...  
  
...but they could never see his light put out  
  
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Feedback? Appriciated!  
  
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End file.
